


Your love on my skin, beautiful like stars

by Nenchen



Series: Our love on our skins [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angel Kisses, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crowley Created the Stars (Good Omens), Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Freckles, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Romantic Fluff, Stars, aka we go through the ages and end up post apocanope, angel marks and the troubles they cause for one fallen demon, it starts sad but ends soft, now with basic spelling and grammar check
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:20:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23493835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nenchen/pseuds/Nenchen
Summary: Crowley and his relationship to "freckles" through the ages.Starting sad, ending soft AF
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Our love on our skins [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694944
Comments: 47
Kudos: 197





	Your love on my skin, beautiful like stars

**Author's Note:**

> I blame [Thestarlitrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thestarlitrose/pseuds/Thestarlitrose).

Every day he and his coworkers were surrounded by stars. All around, all-encompassing, beautiful spots filled with light and love. He couldn’t imagine ever loving anything more than the stars and Her. He loved to make them, watch them go, fill the void of nothing with them and make the universe shine and sparkle and shimmer and beautiful.

Some of the others just followed the instructions and that was it, but he… there was just something about the stars that filled him with passion. With joy.

It made him feel blessed. Close to Her.

He was sure She knew how much he loved them, and that she approved, that’s why She had made his marks the way they were, it had to be. All over his body, sparkling constellations of the tiniest golden dots. He always had his stars with him, painted by Fer love for him. Eternally and always and forever, he was loved and he would love.

He fell.

And he burned.

He _burned_.

He _BURNED_.

And the stars were gone. Down here, they might just as well never have existed. He wished they’d never have. Maybe it would have been less painful.

Because his own stars were not quite as gone. The marks were still there. Just negative. Black. Hatred, burnt right into his skin. They made him feel sick anytime he saw them. They itched. They _hurt_. Everything hurt, now.

His snake form was unfamiliar and uncomfortable and it hurt too. But it was almost a mercy. You can’t see black on black.

There was an angel.

Well, there were several, actually, but only one worth talking to. One that was different, one who neither ran from him nor tried to smite him. And if his marks weren’t visible, that was just another bonus.

He decided to talk to him, after all had went down. Covered himself up so nothing was visible and turned into his other form. Talking as a snake was hard, with that tongue and jaw and the whole anatomy.

And as they talked, for the first time since time started, he didn’t constantly think of the stars, even as the sun set.

* * *

As a general rule, he tried not to look at his own body. That’s why he was absolutely flabbergasted by what the angel said, in that bathhouse where he couldn’t hide anything.

“Oh, your corporation has freckles! How charming!”

Freckles? He didn’t have freckles. His skin reacting to the sun, now that would be ridiculous.

He followed the angel’s gaze down his body and froze.

His body was littered with tiny dots, as it always had been. And they, indeed, looked like freckles. Light brown dots. Not black.

He stared, disbelieving. And then he started to laugh. Laugh so hard tears ran down his face. And then, the tears just wouldn’t _stop_.

They were fading. His stars, his marks were fading away. Just when he’d thought there was nothing else she could take from him. Did she even do this on purpose, hurting him? Or was there not even hatred left now. Just nothing.

He didn’t know how he’d gotten to his chambers, but the drink on his nightstand that was strong, sweet and still hot, despite all evidence showing that hours had passed, gave him a good idea.

He reached for it but stopped. It didn’t matter. No kindness could last. Not even his damn marks could. He turned and fell asleep.

In the morning, he gave in and drank the still hot drink. It warmed him, a bit.

* * *

A snake brooch. A shared meal. A smile.

The kindnesses were starting to pile up more and more. Simpler, maybe, but constant. Crowley basked in their warmth, soaked them up until he felt like basking in the sun.

When his last freckle faded into nothing, he cried for a week. But he picked himself right up again to go to France. Where the angel had somehow managed to get himself put into prison. When he heard the reason, he almost laughed again.

Sometimes, the stars still got to him. He wore sparkle and glitter and shine on his body, just like his body had once upon a time worn them itself. A blazer, glittering. A shiny necklace. Pins and rings and sometimes, nail polish. It hurt less these days, the sting fading just like the marks had. When the stars didn’t get to him, he almost felt alright.

* * *

He was more than alright.

He was happy.

He was free and he was with the angel, and the angel was his angel, and they were both so blessedly happy.

Apocalypse come and gone, they’d started spending as much time with each other as they wanted, which, as it turned out, was all of the time.

The first time the angel had kissed him felt so natural, comfortable and perfectly well aligned with what was supposed to happen in this world, it almost hadn’t registered. Just a quick peck on the cheek, wrapping up wishes of good nights and sweet dreams.

The next morning he’d woken up and gone to the bathroom to wash his face. (He had a whole beauty routine, now that he had the time for it. He enjoyed the cremes and powders and the smells and the feelings. And sometimes, his skin did get a bit dry. Hellfire wasn’t kind to skin.)

And, there it was. A small brown dot on his face. He tried to wash it off but couldn’t.

Dumbfounded, he stared into the mirror.

What was that supposed to mean??? Years of nothing, and then…

A hand sneaked around his waist in a one-sided hug.

“Good morning,” whispered the angel, and pecked him on the other cheek.

And left another mark.

“Angel. What is _that_?”

The angel, as he could see clearly in the mirror, flushed lightly.

“Oh. Oh dear. I guess there was some truth to the humans calling them angel kisses.”

He looked at Crowley’s face, as if trying to decipher his emotions. Well, good luck, because not even he himself could. But of course, the angel saw and understood.

“I am sure we could find a way around it, love, if you prefer this doesn’t happen,” he said, grabbing and squeezing Crowley’s hand.

And suddenly, Crowley realized it. He wanted this to happen. He wanted to wear the angel’s love on his skin. Something deep inside of him tightened painfully, and then unraveled.

“No,” he answered. “I like them.”

The angel beamed and left another one on his chin right that moment, and countless others after breakfast.

The next morning, they were gone.

That hit deeper, and he nearly had a full-blown breakdown right there in the bathroom, if Aziraphale hadn’t been there to support him.

“Don’t worry, my dear,” he said, kissing his forehead. “I’ll leave new ones, however many and whenever you want.”

And he made good on that promise, leaving Crowley’s face looking as if it was mud-sprayed. He was far too happy to do more than grumble a bit about aesthetics, though.

Now, years later, he had settled into this new thing. He never was without a mark anymore, even when they fought, as they sometimes did. But Aziraphale, clever, wonderful and perceptive bastard that he was, had still found a way to get him all sappy again.

“Dearest,” he’d started, one evening they were enjoying outside on their patio. “Would you mind terribly if I took inspiration in nature while I adorn your body with my kisses? Since I am not as creative as you, and you did complain about aesthetics the other day.”

Crowley’d snorted.

“Sure, angel. S’ long as I don’t wake up with an aardvark on my chest s’ fine. Tickety boo.”

He wiggled his fingers.

The next morning he’d woken up to the Milky Way splattered across his chest.

Constellations were now on his body again, nearly every day. He was incredibly grateful to his angel for figuring out this wish, hidden so well it had even been secret to himself.

But the most important thing was that he could once again wear love on his skin. That he loved and was loved. Eternally and always and forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit my tumblr at [goodduckingomens](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/goodduckingomens). Comments and Kudos very much motivate me, so please leave some if you had fun. Keysmash comments appreaciated for the true Crowleys out there. Cite my own fic back at me and i will love you forever.
> 
> Hey everybody, my brain decided I need to write an NSFW sequel/other version for Aziraphale so keep an eye out if that's something you want :D Will be part 2 of a series when published!


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